


We Will Not Waddle Quietly Into the Night

by penguinparity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Crack, Gen, Yes you read that right, werepenguins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinparity/pseuds/penguinparity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that's what I call a close encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Will Not Waddle Quietly Into the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oberstein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oberstein/gifts).



It snows just after Christmas.  It’s an unusual enough occurrence in their part of California that both the Sheriff and Ms. McCall get called into work to deal with the spate of accidents and injuries that occur.

Scott and Stiles spend the day scrambling around the edge of the woods, trying to make the most of the few inches of snow that accumulated overnight.  The pale, cloudy sky overhead grows slowly grayer as the afternoon slips past.  The sunless afternoon has just started to fade when they see a band of coyotes break from the tree line and dash across the road towards town.

“Uhh,” Stiles says.  The snowball Scott had spent the last five minutes trying to pack slaps wetly into the back of Stiles’ head.  “Dude!  Did that not seem weird to you?”  He turns to glare at Scott, who’s leaning against a tree and laughing.

“Yeah, man.  Totally weird.  I mean, Deaton told me coyotes come down into towns a lot when they’re looking for food,” Scott replies when he stops laughing.

“That didn’t look like a ‘let’s find some food run.’  More like a ‘time to run for our life again,’” Stiles says.  He walks over to where Scott’s still leaning against the tree and tries to peer into the twilight creeping out of the forest.

“Totally.  They didn’t even take notice of me.  Shouldn’t I be, like, the bigger scary predator in this situation?”  They both stop and stare into the forest as a faint, shrill cry rings out.

A couple of minutes into the forest they find a different set of tracks that breaks away from the coyote tracks they’ve been backtracking.  They’re odd looking, not like anything either of them has ever seen.  They look like a bird’s footprint, three long spindly lines that come to a point at the back.  Only, they’re larger than any bird foot Stiles has ever seen.  Each print is close to a foot long.  It makes Stiles think of the bronze casts of dinosaur tracks he’d seen when his 8th grade class had gone on a fieldtrip to the Natural History Museum in Bakersfield.  There’s also a curvy line weaving back and forth between the left and right step, as if whatever made these prints had drug a heavy stick behind it.

“Dude, we should go back,” Scott says, staring down at the tracks.  Stiles is about to reply when another screeching cry rips through the trees, much closer this time.  Before they can react, the thing crests the bank of the river not thirty feet away.

The thing looks like a crested penguin; straight out of one of the many late night Animal Planet specials Stiles has watched when he took too much Adderall.  It’s got the huge yellow bushy eyebrows that spread up into short furry spikes over its eyes.  Only the thing before them is taller than they are, far larger than any penguin Stiles has ever seen.  It flaps its thin wings and snaps its beak at them before it starts to charge.

They easily outwalk it.  A charging, over six foot tall penguin might be a startling sight, but the thing is moving slowly enough that they’re able to keep their distance by walking quickly.

“So, thoughts?” Stiles asks as they make a slow turn back towards the edge of the forest and the slow curve of the river.  The penguin waddles angrily after them.

“Hold on,” Scott says.  He stops walking and cocks his head to the side, listening intently as the penguin screeches again.  “Does it…does it sound like it’s talking?”

“I don’t know, man.  But I don’t feel like getting close enough to its beak to find out,” Stiles says as he keeps walking.

“No, seriously, it sounds familiar,” Stiles says.  Which is when Derek comes crashing through the forest, his claws slashing out to slice through one of the penguin’s extended wings.

“Woah, hey! Personal foul, unnecessary roughness!” Stiles yells.  The penguin screeches at a truly impressive decibel before falling onto its stomach.  Using its webbed feet, the huge penguin propels itself down the slope towards the river, leaving a thin, bloody trail in its wake.  It lets out a final screech that sounds an awful lot like an obscenity before it slides into the slow moving water of the river and darts out of sight.

“Was the slice and dice really necessary?” Stiles demands, turning to glare at Derek.

“We had it under control,” Scott adds mulishly, crossing his arms.

“Really?” Derek asks dryly, only sparing a moment to glance condescendingly in their direction.  “Were you going to walk it in circles until it fell down?”

A spluttering noise from the river draws their attention as a familiar, grizzled face pops up out of the water.

“Coach….?” Scott asks slowly as they continue to stare.  Finstock shakes his head and slowly starts paddling to the shore with one hand.

“Goddamnit, I moved to California because it wasn’t supposed to snow here,” Finstock yells as he started to struggle out of the water.  Scott starts to dart forward to help, only to be held back by an arm from Derek.  They stare at each other, their angry glares perfectly matched.  Stiles rolls his eyes and Derek’s weird protectiveness and steps around them both.

“Coach, you alright?” Stiles calls down.  Finstock pauses from where he’s trying to wring out some of the water from his dripping clothes.

“Do I look alright?” he demands angrily, gesturing towards the bloody slashes on his arm.  “Your friend here just tried to cut my arm off with his claws and you two idiots couldn’t manage to figure out I was trying to talk to you!  I know is this your fault, somehow, Bilinski.  And if I can figure out how to prove it, you’re all getting detention until you graduate.”  Finstock points at each of them individually as if to accentuate his point.

“Detention hasn’t worked on me since I graduated,” Derek says dryly.

“Really? Then why do I always see you hanging around the school?” Finstock demands, his glare focusing in on Derek before it narrows suspiciously.  “You’re not the one that gave Bilinski all those chains, are you?”

**Author's Note:**

> From a tumblr prompt by oberstein asking for Coach Finstock as a werepenguin. I'm blaming this entirely on her. The title is also entirely her fault. I suggested something from Independence Day, since well, Finstock. She came back with the title. The summary is a direct quote from the movie.


End file.
